Pregnant with the Prince's Child by Raye Morgan Page B

said simply. “I don’t have to accept a life I don’t want.”
    “But here in Ambria…”
    “That’s just it. I don’t have to stay here in Ambria. The rest of the world doesn’t give a damn about princes from Ambria. I can go somewhere else.”
    He was right, of course. This was his decision and if he didn’t want to be a prince, what right did anyone have to make him do it anyway? None.
    In some ways, she was torn. If he accepted the royal position, she knew he would be lost to her forever. Even if he didn’t she didn’t have much hope with him. But everything in her yearned for his success and happiness, and she had a feeling he shouldn’t pass up this chance.
    “Fair enough,” she said at last. “But I would just say one thing. They have wonderful medical care at the castle and that is what you need right now. It wouldn’t hurt to get opinions from the best physicians in the country.” She sighed. “And Queen Pellea seemed so nice.” She gave him a halfhearted grin. “And anyway, since they want you, why not at least give them a shot at convincing you? It can’t hurt. If it’s not meant to be, you’ll find a way to turn it down gracefully, I’m sure of it.”
    He stared at her and she couldn’t tell if he’d really been listening. She bent down to fluff his pillows and he reached up and sank his fingers into her hair, letting go easily as she straightened again, watching her hair pour out of his grasp as though it were liquid gold. She looked at him, wide-eyed. He’d loved playing with her hair in the past. Did he remember, even a little bit? The feel of his touch made her shiver.
    “I cannot begin to express to you how much I hate this,” he said absently, as though half his attention was still on her hair.
    “Hate what?” she asked quickly.
    “Not being able to get around by myself.” His gaze met hers. “Depending on other people just to walk in the yard.”
    “Have some patience,” she said, shaking her head. “You came in here on a gurney not even fifteen hours ago. You can’t get up and dance. Not yet.”
    His eyes were hard as they looked into hers. “Will you dance with me, Janis?” he asked softly. “When I can dance again, I want you for my partner.”
    Her pulse began to race. He was half-teasing, playing with her for his own amusement. Little did he know how she wished he really was serious about it.
    “I will,” she told him earnestly. “If you still want me.”
    She loved him so. Might as well admit it. That hadn’t changed and she didn’t think it ever would.
    She’d loved him from the moment she first saw him. She knew very well that the whole concept of love at first sight was ridiculous. She didn’t believe in it. You couldn’t really love someone you didn’t know. So she wasn’t sure just what that was that had grabbed her the first time her eyes had met Mykal Marten’s.
    There was no doubt she’d been blown away. After all, he was incredibly good-looking. His dark hair was cut short but it still managed to curl around his head, reminding her of a statue of an ancient Greek Warrior. His body was warriorlike, too—hard and muscular and broad in all the best places. His eyes were pale, pale blue, like spring flowers, but burning with a hard, fearless light that seemed to blaze out from those gorgeous thick eyelashes.
    All in all, her heart had stopped in her throat and for a moment, she thought she’d never breathe again. Maybe that wasn’t love, but it was something. It had almost seemed like some sort of force field had sprung between them, electric and throbbing, like a beat at a really hot dance club.
    One look and she knew—he was the one.
    Had he felt the same? Maybe. Maybe a little. But she didn’t think it had happened to him in quite the same full-throttle way. Still, she’d let him know how she felt from the first. She had no choice. It was as though she needed the breath from his lips to survive.
    Now was no different. She would do